


Only moment we were alone

by djhedy



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Loves Ronan Lynch, Clubbing, Dancing, Dirty Dancing, Grinding, Kissing, M/M, No CDTH spoilers, Post-Canon, Ronan Lynch Loves Adam Parrish, University, but theyre each others home, can you fucking stand it, eurgh, i dunno what to tell you, i mean this is it, that's basically it, what else, you smell like home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 02:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21402418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djhedy/pseuds/djhedy
Summary: Ronan hates clubs, hates the pretence of everyone enjoying the same music, as if art were that easy, hates that everyone else seems to know how to move to just anything that comes on, hates the cheap deals and the cheap bodies.He clutches Gansey’s elbow as they move through the crowd.-or, it's been six weeks and Ronan wants to check he remembers how Adam tastes
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 15
Kudos: 368





	Only moment we were alone

Ronan hates clubs, hates the pretence of everyone enjoying the same music, as if art were that easy, hates that everyone else seems to know how to move to just anything that comes on, hates the cheap deals and the cheap bodies.

He clutches Gansey’s elbow as they move through the crowd.

At his own elbow Blue is grinning at everything, already looking sweaty and excited.

Ronan loops his arm through hers. Just so no one will get lost.

It wasn’t ideal to meet Adam and his friends _in _the goddamn club but they’ve arrived late and Ronan grinds his teeth together, once again wishing the BMW had won out over the Camaro. Fucking rock paper scissors.

“Hey, you look nervous,” yells Blue somewhere below him.

Ronan glares at her. “I really don’t,” he says, not feeling nervous at all.

She just smiles and winds an arm round his waist.

They’re at the bar and Gansey is ordering drinks and then a beer bottle is passed to Ronan and he throws half of it down his throat before allowing himself to look around.

He’s not nervous, but, he hasn’t seen Adam in six weeks.

“There they are,” says Gansey, pointing and striding away.

Ronan lets Blue tug his hand.

It’s been half a year of this, so, it isn’t new – missing Adam like a tide, something that claws up his throat and scrapes away when he sternly tells himself missing Adam is pointless: they signed up for this. It’s worth it, he knows, it’s the only way they both get everything they want. And he’s visited a couple of times before, so he it’s not like he doesn’t know Adam’s friends.

But his throat feels dry as they approach a messy table, people clapping each other on the back and laughing and knocking back drinks and Adam turning as Gansey places a hand on his shoulder, and standing – muscles shifting beneath his white tshirt – eyes locking on Ronan’s over Gansey’s back.

His smile splits his entire face open.

Blue detaches herself and moves forward for a hug, and Ronan just stands awkwardly, hovering a foot away from the table, not sure whether to feel annoyed he hasn’t had his turn yet, or grateful that he’ll be last. He spins his bottle loosely between his fingers.

Adam’s eyes were closed, head against the side of Blue’s, and when he pulls away he lets her kiss him on the cheek, smiles at her, and then his eyes dart back to Ronan and his body language shifts.

Ronan stuffs one hand in his pocket and pulls it out again.

Gansey and Blue are introducing themselves to Adam’s friends, finding chairs and pulling them up, and Ronan would normally amuse himself by watching his favourite people being parodies of themselves with new people – Gansey all presidential smiles and handshakes, Blue with cautious eyebrows and a misleading Southern lilt to her voice – if Adam weren’t stood a half foot in front of him.

“Lynch,” breathes Adam, his lips tilting up on one side.

Ronan takes him in, takes a second to remember the exact colour of his eyes, his hair, the planes of his face, the muscles of his shoulders, the shape of his collarbone as it snakes out of the wide neck of a tshirt that didn’t used to be so tight on him. He hadn’t forgotten any of it, not really, but it was so different to only see something in dreams.

“Parrish,” he manages, a little hesitant. He doesn’t know why he’s always like this at first, and Adam’s teased him for it numerous times. How he still acts like he did when they first got together, like he couldn’t be sure any of it was real. The first few times it had been an argument, Adam frustrated and uptight _it feels like you’re always waiting to wake up, _Ronan eventually explaining _I always am._

Adam just smiles at him now, letting amusement and exasperation flood his face, and presses his fingers against Ronan’s, nudging them together. He tugs a little and Ronan puts his beer down on the nearest surface, finally steps forward, wrapping his arms around Adam’s shoulders, pulling them against each other, and tucks his head beside Adam’s. “Hey,” Adam says.

Ronan nods, scratches the side of his head against Adam’s ear, and Adam chuckles, winding his hands around Ronan’s back and squeezing him. Adam sighs, and Ronan feels him relax. “Mm,” says Adam. “Why do you smell good?”

Ronan snorts, lowering one hand to scratch teasingly at Adam’s lower back. “Eight hours in the fucking Pig.”

“Mm,” says Adam. “Gasoline and fast food, my favourite.”

Adam smells good too, but Ronan doesn’t tell him that. Nudges his nose along his neck, inhales. Doesn’t tell him he still smells like open fields.

“Hey,” says Adam. “You gonna talk to me?”

Ronan responds by clutching him tighter and brushing his lips over his ear.

He can feel Adam smile into his neck, hands loosening their hold around his back to snake below his leather jacket and fist in his shirt instead. “Fuck, I missed you,” he murmurs.

Ronan kisses his ear again, finally feels brain power return to him, clears his throat a little and says, “Why the fuck are we in a club, Parrish?”

Adam laughs, low and amused, pulls his face away from Ronan’s neck and looks up at him, eyes bright under the dark club lighting. “It’s a Friday night, we’re college students, it’s Kelly’s birthday.” He shrugs, knuckles rubbing small circles against Ronan’s back. “You were given plenty of warning.”

Ronan frowns, tugs Adam in again so he can kiss his cheek, can’t believe he is here to do that, can’t believe how much _more _it feels in the doing than in the memory, feeling rippling through his body, and says in a low voice, “Shouldn’t have bothered coming.”

Adam nuzzles his jaw, kisses underneath it. “Stop pouting and come say hi.” He moves away, and Ronan’s heart contracts at the distance, so rather than snarl or pull away he lets Adam tug him over to the table, grabs his beer and gulps a little frantically, sits next to Adam and only releases his fingers to throw his arm round Adam’s shoulders instead, meaning his friends have to do the leaning forward to fistbump or shake Ronan’s hand. He nods around a little, says happy birthday to Kelly – he remembers her, she works at the library with Adam – the others he’s probably met but he’s not very good with faces. He’s pleased when Adam doesn’t shake off his arm, settles into his side instead. Ronan taps his spare fingers against his beer.

Gansey smiles knowingly at Ronan’s side and says, “Ok?” maybe in response to the way Ronan is leaning back into his chair, one leg pressed into Adam’s, the other loose and relaxed under the table, one hand on his beer, an arm around his boyfriend who’s turned the opposite direction, chatting happily with his friends while one hand clutches onto Ronan’s knee. Ronan frowns at him, unimpressed by how well Gansey knows him, and Gansey just looks happy, and Ronan just feels more unimpressed, and Gansey turns back to the conversation he was having.

“Lynch,” Adam says, as if he’s said once it already, so Ronan grudgingly leans forward, “we’re talking about you.”

“Great,” says Ronan, sipping some more of his beer and trying to remember the names of the people in the conversation. He thinks if he hadn’t met them before Adam would be introducing them. Thinks he should know to help him out anyway and flicks his eyes between the two people assessing him.

“This doesn’t look like your _natural environment_,” maybe-Paris yells over the music, smirking into her glass.

Maybe-Darren shakes his head. “She means you don’t look like you’re having fun.”

“Oh I didn’t say that,” says probably-Paris, one eye flicking to Ronan’s arm tightening instinctively over Adam. She smiles in amusement.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” says Ronan, pitching his voice just loud enough to be heard. “Parrish asked what I wanted to do while I was here, and he knows that yelling across a sticky table in a dark room at people I’ve barely met listening to music that makes me want to gouge my eyes out is my idea of fun.”

For a second he wonders if they’re going to be offended, and then maybe-Paris laughs and maybe-Darren shakes his head, and Adam shifts against him, his hand teasing a little higher up his leg and back down again.

“Why your eyes?” asks maybe-Darren.

“What?”

“Wouldn’t your ears be more suitable victims for this self-harm?” he suggests.

Ronan just shrugs, understands the joke, doesn’t want to say that he wouldn’t joke about losing your hearing, tilts his bottle back and lets the conversation drift away from him.

Adam’s hand doesn’t stop moving though, mostly just stroking slowly over his knee, occasionally squeezing when he laughs at something, Ronan’s arm tightening round his shoulder and kissing his ear in response.

At one point maybe-Paris and maybe-Darren get into a heated debate and Ronan rolls Adam’s body to face his and says into his ear, “Quick what are your fucking friends called.”

Adam shakes his head. “Paris and Dan.”

“_Dan_,” says Ronan, nodding, kissing his forehead, “Dan, Dan, ok, Dan. Dan and Paris.”

Adam smiles up at him. “Useless. It’s like you’ve never met people before.”

“You’re the one who insists I _know _these people,” says Ronan, trying to scowl at him, but feeling his own fucking face softening at Adam’s fond smile. “If it was up to me we’d be fucking gone already.”

“Mm,” says Adam, moving his hand over Ronan’s thigh. “Would we.”

Ronan closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Adam’s. “Hey,” he says tightly. “That’s a dirty fucking trick.”

“Mm,” says Adam again, tucking his head against Ronan’s neck and kissing his skin softly.

Ronan is five seconds from losing it – has been for the past hour – and pulls Adam away by the shoulder. He points at him sternly with his free hand. “None of that,” he says. “You chose to be here. Now be a good boy and talk to your friends.” He waves vaguely in their direction.

Adam smirks and turns away, leaning his body into Ronan’s and putting his hand back on his knee. It’s still except for one finger which occasionally scratches at him.

Ronan’s other knee is in constant movement jiggling under the table and when someone announces it’s time for shots he’s more than fucking happy to put his energy to good use, picks one up before the tray is even on the table and knocks it back. There’s a few hollers and claps in appreciation, and then everyone – even Adam – is reaching for one of the various colours and making happy and disgusted faces in turn.

Ronan watches Adam as he drinks his, stops half way through and frowns at it. “Well,” he says.

Kelly slaps a hand down on the table. “_Adam_,” she says earnestly, “have you never done a shot before? That’s not how you do it.”

“It’s… interesting,” says Adam. Adam, who to Ronan’s knowledge usually only has a few sips of Ronan’s beer, if that.

“It’s disgusting,” says someone Ronan can’t even remember a maybe-name for, gangly and enthusiastic on the other side of Gansey, “that’s why you knock it back.” And then a few people are reaching for a second shot, taking it in turns to show Adam how they open their throats and pour the shots down like fire.

Adam smiles, humouring them all, sips the end of his sambuca like he’s at a polite affair he doesn’t want to cause upset at, and then when his friends get bored steals a gulp of Ronan’s beer.

Ronan grins and hides it against Adam’s hair. “Better?” he says.

Adam shakes his head. “All alcohol is gross. You people are _unfathomable_.”

“You’ve been here too fucking long,” says Ronan, bringing one hand up to brush fingers through Adam’s hair.

Adam pulls away to meet Ronan’s eyes and says, with a stern expression, “Un_fucking_fathomable_._”

“Well that’s more like it,” says Ronan, pretending seven syllables of Adam’s Virginian accent cursing does nothing to him.

Adam smiles because he knows it does. His hand is dragging dangerously far up Ronan’s leg again. “Hey,” he says. “Wanna dance?”

Ronan doesn’t, he really doesn’t, but this might be the only moment they get alone on this goddamn night, the _wanna _still ringing in his ears as he lets Adam tug him to his feet, wrestle his beer out of his hand, down the end in front of him, maintaining eye contact as Ronan watches his throat as he swallows it down.

Blue says, “Where you going?”

“We’ll be back,” says Adam. Ronan shrugs off his jacket and throws it over his chair.

“Sure,” says Blue, smiling at them innocently, raising her glass to Ronan.

Ronan sticks his middle finger up at her as Adam pulls him away, and then they’re moving through a thronging crowd, and god Ronan had forgotten how much he hated being around this many people.

Someone’s back knocks into him and Ronan glares at the back of their head and then Adam’s hands are on either side of his face and pulling him back to face him. “Babe,” he says, want obvious in his eyes, fingers scratching over his head, and suddenly no one else is here at all.

Ronan curls his hands over Adam’s hips. He barely knows what music is playing, knows it’s loud and pulsing and there’s too much fucking singing – but Adam’s hands are pulling down over his neck, and stretching over his bare shoulders, and poking under the straps of his dark vest, and Ronan digs his fingers harder into Adam’s waist, lets Adam move against him, swaying and turning them slowly.

He rubs his cheek against Adam’s good ear and says, “I fucking missed you.”

“Yeh?” says Adam in response, and Ronan can see Adam’s throat where he gulps. Nervous or unsure or – Ronan doesn’t know.

“Fucking yes,” says Ronan tightly. For all he gets teased Adam can be just as insecure in this thing they’re doing, the concept still fairly new for both of them, the wanting something they can have. He thinks for a moment, kisses Adam’s ear, dips his fingers under the hem of Adam’s tshirt and says, “My dreams get you all wrong.”

Adam seems to like that, tugs their bodies a little harder together, and Ronan feels _all _of Adam, and closes his eyes, and lets out a little noise by his ear. Adam says again, “Yeh?” a little breathless.

“Yeh,” says Ronan. “You never smell this good when I’m asleep.”

“God,” says Adam, clasping his hands a little desperately round Ronan’s shoulders. “Why haven’t I kissed you yet.”

“Good question,” says Ronan, but he takes his time, murmuring his lips against Adam’s ear one more time, nudging his nose a little lower and kissing his neck, rocking their hips together to the thud of the music, rubs circles against Adam’s back, teases his fingers at the waistband of Adam’s jeans, grazes his teeth a little against the line of Adam’s jaw.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” says Adam, grabs the back of Ronan’s head with one hand and presses their lips together.

Ronan thinks he might actually get the point of clubs.

His heart is beating fast with how Adam is working against him, mouth sliding over his and tongue fighting into his mouth, like he’s been waiting to taste every inch of him, hands dipping under the straps of his top and running over his shoulder blades; but also with the crush of bodies either side of them, the thrill of how public this all is, how no one gives a shit, everyone wrapped up in their own bubbles, nothing piercing Ronan’s except Adam’s hot hands and the incessant beat of the music.

Adam pulls away and pants against his mouth. “Fuck babe,” he says. “Why do you taste so good.”

Ronan grins against his lips, surges forward licking again into Adam’s mouth before pulling away and whispering into his ear, “Maybe I still taste of you.”

“Oh my god,” Adam says.

They’re still moving against each other and Ronan realises quite abruptly he’s going to have to stop, but then Adam leans up into him, arms around his neck and rising a little on his toes, dick rubbing fucking _directly _against Ronan’s, tilting his head back so Adam can kiss him deeper, and all thoughts of stopping exit Ronan’s brain.

“Um,” Ronan says when Adam pulls away a little to gasp for air, not loosening his grip round Adam’s back, holding him against him like something precious – and like they’ve stopped pretending they’re just here to dance – and like there aren’t a hundred people around them doing the same thing – and adds, “_Adam_,” when Adam grinds up against him at a particularly dirty angle. Does it again. And again. “Fuck, can you like, fucking _not _I’m gonna fucking – _fuck,_” and Ronan finally pushes Adam back to the ground, an inch away, takes in a deep breath, closes his eyes and concentrates.

When he opens them again Adam’s eyes are wide and Ronan glares at him. “Uh, did you just –”

“_No_,” says Ronan, “but it was fucking close, _Christ_ Adam.”

So then Adam grins. “Shame.”

“It fucking isn’t,” mutters Ronan, willing his heartbeat to slow down a little, just wants the heat of Adam pressed up against him, tries desperately to think of anything but the feel of his body, “you think I want to go back to them like that?”

“Maybe I want you to,” Adam says, still that damn smirk on his face that makes Ronan want to lick it away. Adam leans forward, keeping their bodies just enough apart, but brushing his lips against Ronan’s ear, “Maybe I want to sit there knowing you’re dirty, and wet, and uncomfortable, and still wanting me.”

“Jesus fuck, Adam,” says Ronan, closing his eyes again. “When did you get so fucking dirty.”

He feels the stretch of Adam’s smile against his ear. “When I was waiting for you to come back.”

Ronan buries his face against Adam’s shoulder, and breathes him in. Thinks how Adam doesn’t mean _come back_ to Cambridge, doesn’t mean that he’s been waiting for Ronan to do all the work to get to see him again, thinks how he knows Adam means come back to _him_.

“I fucking love you,” Ronan mumbles into Adam’s shoulder, then raises his head and says, “but you play fucking dirty.”

Adam kisses Ronan’s jaw, says, “I love you too, Lynch,” then finally steps away from Ronan, tugging his hand. “And that’s _why _you love me, dumbass.”

Ronan can’t argue with this, so just lets Adam walk them back to the table, taking several deep steadying breaths and gazing down at his jeans, hoping he’s not too obvious. He sits down quickly when they get back, briefly considers pulling Adam into his lap but realises how badly that would go for him. Settles for Adam wrapping an arm around his waist.

Blue leans over and says, “All ok?”

Ronan shakes his head. “Parrish can’t dance.”

Adam pinches him and Ronan jerks, and Adam says, “Lynch is just afraid of my moves.”

“Damn right,” Ronan mumbles, stealing a drink from Adam’s water bottle.

Gansey smiles patiently at them both and says, “Sure. Looks like it.”

Adam is smiling innocently. A smile from Adam used to be such a rare, cautious thing. A thing Ronan calculated and tested, felt honoured when he made one happen, when he got Adam to calm down, slow down, breathe enough so that he had room to smile. Now he’s laughing at his friends’ jokes, not minding when they get teased by the group for how much they’re touching each other, even lets Ronan throw his arm round Adam’s shoulder and growl at someone when he gets accused of being possessive, hears the warmth in Adam’s voice and feels the hand tight around his side when he corrects loudly, “I’m the possessive one, believe me.”

Ronan grins against Adam’s head, kisses him there and whispers, “Looking forward to testing that theory later.”

Adam tilts his head up for a proper kiss, says, “Yeah?” Closes his eyes and kisses Ronan once, hard but brief.

“Mm,” is all Ronan manages, as he breathes Adam in and thinks of open fields, and engine oil, and leather car seats, and dust after rainfall, and sweet iced tea, and Adam sleeping next to him at night, and home, and home, and home.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry. i dunno what to tell you, this isn't my usual thing but i was listening to 'the only moment we were alone' by explosions in the sky and realised there was no better way to spend my evening than listening to it on repeat and writing about people who are so fucking in love they can barely stand it. you're welcome x x x


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